


Wolves

by TheRighteousMan (FullmetalFlameElric)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Brief Stiles/Original Male Character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalFlameElric/pseuds/TheRighteousMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had always been fascinated by wolves</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> ok, so this was pretty much inspired by the song Wolves by Phosphorescent. Seriously, this song is perfect for this fandom.
> 
> There's a lot of debate about the song's meaning. Most find it linked to drug addiction. I listened to it the first time and immediately thought of an abusive relationship or abuse in a household. And it's only solidified more the more I listen to it.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy

Stiles had always been fascinated by wolves. He honestly had no idea where it started, but he thinks it has something to do with his mother. It was a safe guess. It was that fascination that kept him in contact with the pack throughout his college career. Even into starting a relationship a werewolf he met at college, he still kept in touch with the others. Even after the history he had, the reasons he could have had to avoid the pack. They were still his pack.

It was a dream come true when he and Connor moved out to the northern woods. The woods were their backyard. The hills looked ethereal in the moonlight when snow was gathered on their tops. But the real magic of it was the wolf pack that would run and play in their front yard.

Stiles would sit late at night with the lights off, gaze focused on the outside world as he watched. There were five of them. A pup with a tan pelt that always looked dirty, as if he’d been rolling in something. Stiles fondly called him Skip, for the odd little hop he had whenever he ran. Muk and Luk were named in honor of his two favorite polar bears, the twins the classic timber wolf coloring. Muk always looked like he was smirking and Luk had an odd splotch of white on his forehead that reminded Stiles of a clover. Bear was a solidly built male with the blackest fur Stiles had ever seen. It reminded him of Derek, the sight always comforting as the young man recalled his days of running through the woods of Beacon Hills with the pack, a large black wolf running alongside him. But it was the large white female that always entranced him. She was strong and graceful. And she would always see him in the windows, watching. And she’d watch back. Like a Sentinel. 

It was this solitary heaven that Stiles found his very own secluded hell.

_Mama there's wolves in the house_  
Mama they won't let me out  
Mama they're mating at night  
Mama they won’t make nice 

He’d made him angry again. Stiles knew he had. He kept his head bowed as he watched the wolf pace before him. Too human feet fell nearly silently, too quiet in their booted state. It only added to the growing anticipation as Stiles shoulders tensed with each footfall.

The pacing stopped and a hand gripped his arm tightly. A bruise would be there in the morning. Stiles wouldn’t make an effort to cover it up. No one would see it but himself and Connor. There was no reason to. No one ever visited. No one ever even called him.

He was alone out here. Alone with the wolves. Even in the safety of his own home.

_They're pacing and glowing bright_  
Their faces all snowy and white  
Bury their paws in the stone  
Make for my heart as their home 

It was night like this, after a particularly hard handed touch, that Stiles would lay still in their bed. His gaze would focus on the world outside their bedroom window. The snow falling steadily from the sky. He’d watch the wolves as they played, the dusting of powdery snow covering their faces and backs. It was peaceful.

He’d imagine that same peace inside, surrounding him. He’d imagine that the sore ache of his body was from tender touches and drawn out pleasure. He’d pretend the feeling between his thighs was something wanted instead of the drying feeling of blood. He’d let himself dream. Pretending that the warmth beside him was a familiar and welcome body of warmth. That the snoring just behind him was the quiet breathing of his alpha asleep. That the arm around him was not possessive, and instead comforting. That he’d taken the chance and just opened his mouth and said something instead of swallowing it and settling for second best.

That he wasn’t lying beside Connor, but instead Derek.

_tumble and fight_  
And they're beautiful  
On the hilltops at night  
They are beautiful 

Watching the wolves play outside was stunning. They bounded and jumped. They pounced and snapped. Rolling after one another in the snow and kicking up the fine powder.

It brought back memories of when he was still back home, growing up. How Scott and Isaac would always find some excuse to start wrestling in the middle of the pack meetings. How Erica would be the first to jump into the fray, and Boyd would follow. How Derek would just let it go on until one of the humans was nearly bowled over.

They were memories of warmth. Memories of family. They were happy. They were nothing like the crushing fear he felt inside.

_Blazing with light_  
Is the whitest and the tallest and the biggest one  
She's muscled and fine  
When she runs 

Sentinel always knew when Stiles was watching. It was as if she could sense when he was there, leaning his forehead against the window, his breath fogging the glass with every exhale. Every time, she would hold his gaze for a minute or two before dipping her head once and joining in the play.

It was comforting. She was a constant in his life that desperately soothed him in a time when he barely slept for fear of waking. She was his way of predicting just how bad the next day would be.

He should have known something was wrong the night he didn’t see her.

_They're tearing up holes in the house_  
They're tearing their claws in the ground  
They're staring with blood in their mouths  
Mama they won't let me out 

That night, the wolves hunted.

Blood fell into Stiles’ vision, brown eyes narrowing in an attempt to keep them as clear as possible as he ducked his head. Repeatedly, he apologized, not knowing what he’d done, as glass shattered around and against him.

Powdered snow was stained red, the pack ripping into tender flesh. White fur stained red. Golden eyes glowing with the thrill of the kill.

Their voices rose in the song of victory.

_They tumble and fight_  
And they're beautiful  
On the hilltops at night  
They are beautiful 

Furniture lay broken, glass scattered around the home. A heavy hand gripped blood slicked hair, shoving roughly and forcing Stiles’ skull to bounce against the table in the dining room. His vision blurred, knocking him off balance enough to be thrown to the floor.

Someone spit on him, ordering him to clean it up before footsteps moved away from him. He just lay there a moment, too dazed to move. The door slammed shut, the engine starting and the truck leaving.

He was alone. He was in pain. He tried to sit up, but his vision blurred. His stomach rebelled and he threw up, sick mixing with blood on the floor. He turned his head away and focused on getting out of there. His feet refused to carry him.

He dragged his way out.

The cold was a bitter bite against his skin, but welcome. He was alive. He knew because he could feel it. The snow beneath him gave easily, letting his body sink into it, creating a trail stained red as he moved towards the woods. He made it halfway before his arms gave out and he rolled onto his back to stare at the moon.

It was quiet, the cold seeping into his limbs when he heard soft padding approaching him. Peeling his eyes open, he turned his brown gaze towards the sound and smiled softly.

“Come to keep my company?” he asked, voice rough from screaming in pain.

Beside him, Sentinel merely tilted her head and stepped closer to sniff him. He let her, grimacing as she dragged a tongue along his temple to clear away the blood. Her nose was cold, but the puffs of air against his skin were warm. He welcomed them.

She shifted, curling around him and creating a furry blanket of warmth over him. He didn’t think about it. He’d be dead from blood loss if hypothermia didn’t kill him first. Either was a welcome reprieve at this point. So instead, he just lifted a hand and ran it through her fur.

“...Did you know, I had a pack like yours?” he whispered, petting through the thick coat. She just laid her head on his chest, watching him. “We were a happy family…. I even had a wolf I admired… wanted to share everything with him… But it just wouldn’t have worked out… I told him and he didn’t say anything… never answered me… so I left…” he was shivering now, his body convulsing. He could feel his eyelids drooping. “I miss him… he always made me feel safe…”

His eyes closed.

_Blazing with light_  
Is the whitest and the tallest and the biggest one  
She's muscled and fine  
When she runs 

“Stiles…”

The voice was familiar. It was warmth. It was home. It was safe. Struggling out of the black pit of sleep, the young man opened his eyes.

Glassy, hazel eyes stared down at him, relief and worry mixing as he got a response. Stiles blinked. There were arms around him. He was warm and the familiar, but long missed smell of pack surrounded him with a hint of leather.

“Derek?”

The other managed a weak smile, a tear managing to escape. Chapped lips pressed to an untouched part of Stiles’ forehead. The feeling of stubble against his skin proved this wasn’t a dream.

“Yeah….”

“What’re you doing here? How’d you find me?” Stiles slurred, his brain trying to catch up with what was going on through the cold and blood loss.

“A few friends of yours came for us…” Derek replied, glancing up. Following his gaze, Stiles found a woman standing nearby, her skin pale, almost white, her hair the same color as fresh snow. Gold eyes peered back, the same understanding he’d always seen in Sentinel’s gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak, the woman shaking her head. He blinked and the wolf stood there once more, turning and loping off to return to her pack. Arms around him tightened, the feeling of safe washing over him once more.

He turned his head, looking to Derek in a silent question. The alpha just leaned their foreheads together, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He was crying.

“Let’s take you home…”

_Mama there's wolves in the house_  
Mama i tried to put them out  
And mama i know you're too wise  
To wait till those wolves make nice 


End file.
